The fight for justice for LB is consuming. In a good way for me as it distracts from the darkest of dark thoughts. From pain I can’t go near. At the same time, there are everyday things that need to be done. Outside of emails, developments, campaign developments, bombshells, twists, turns, obstacles and the now familiar billy bullshite to deflect and challenge.

Daily life. Daily life that, for fifteen or so years, consisted of a variable wait every morning for ‘transport’ to pitch up and take LB to school. A wait in which Chunky Stan and Bess kept LB company. Chunky Stan is now blind in both eyes. A development that would have floored us a bit a year ago. When it happened, a few weeks ago, we checked tail wagging capacity, his general demeanour and moved on. He’s a hug/cuddle/sleep kind of dog dude. None of which are affected by a lack of sight. The vet was impressed by his apparently instant adaptation to a non seeing world. A straightforward shift to a different way of being.

What’s missing is LB’s forensic focus and commentary on this development. His concern and desire to repeatedly focus on this change. He’d want reassurance that Stan can’t see any more and to understand why the vet couldn’t stop this happening. He’d probably draw in a few of his favourite characters/people to (repeatedly) comment on Stan’s new situation. Vince from the Mighty Boosh, Smithy, Dirty Harry and the Chief Constable of the Metropolitan Police.

We’ve sort of incorporated Chunky Stan’s sight loss into our everyday lives without much comment. At the same time, there’s a silence that’s cavernous.

With an echo of ‘Is Stan fat Mum?’…

We seem to be skidding along a narrow, rapidly changing, harrowing track these days. Randomly battered by various players/organisations kicking around. Some crappily and/or awkwardly trying to cover their backs.

On an everyday level the experience is a bit like that Wii goalie game that lobs the odd welly instead of a ball. It was a bit of a chuckle when we played it, a few years ago. Dragging LB into Wii world where he engaged on his own terms. [He was shit and didn’t care].

Now the welly to ball ratio is reversed. We get regular kicks in the face. And sometimes miss, or not fully acknowledge, the odd save.

Odd balls? There are some. There is going to be a review into all unexpected deaths in Sloven’s mental health/learning disability provision since 2011. And an independent investigation has been commissioned into what happened to LB. Outside of the focus on the unit. From ‘transition’ to the rest. (If there’s an obvious change to be made here, it’s bury ‘transition’ and ditch the nonsensical division at 18 between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ services…) But the broader investigation is a good development. Not in a ‘Serious Case Review (SCR)/learnings to be made’ way. But because there was/is so much, so wrong. It needs to be made visible.

In timely support of this, further analysis of the Learning Disability Census was published yesterday. One of those documents that makes you think what.the.fuck?

Just one stat;

56.1% of the 3250 inpatients reported in the census had experienced at least one of the following in the 3 months preceding the census date; self harm, seclusion, restraint, assault or accident.

Over half of patients experienced at least one of the above in three months??? How many people experience any of the above in 12 months?

In a life time?

How many people experience any of these in a hospital setting?

I had a phone conversation with someone yesterday who questioned the use of face down restraint at STATT. Apparently ‘supine’ doesn’t mean face down.

‘Oh.’ I said. ‘Doesn’t it?’ 

Brain screech.

Supine? Are we really differentiating between forms of restraint? 

‘Er. Ok, I’ll check out what it actually was’… I said. Gulping. Remaining heart fragments lined up ready for another smashing.

Supine or prone. Face up, face down.

Yeah. As you’d expect. Bastards.